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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004622">Seasons of Warmth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastchancecafe/pseuds/lastchancecafe'>lastchancecafe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cozy feelings, Introspection, M/M, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Sweaters, he's still figuring things out</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:53:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastchancecafe/pseuds/lastchancecafe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So I take it you like the sweater?” David’s voice is high and breathy, his smile wide against the side of Patrick's neck. </p><p>“It’s exactly what I needed.”</p><p>Patrick’s relationship with his sweaters in four parts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Seasons of Warmth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelUnGarded/gifts">MelUnGarded</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you so much for the prompt-I hope you enjoy all of Patrick's sweaters and feelings.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>~spring~</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, man can I help you find anything else?”</p><p>Patrick has been standing next to the sweater display for far too long, running his hands gently across the piles of luxury knits in every color imaginable. The sweater’s softness had grounded him as his eyes tracked the sales associate across the store. The same associate who was now standing right next to him. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>The associate is wearing a sweater from the display, the deep black fabric tight across his shoulders and chest. He straightens the pile casually, offering up a warm smile. If Patrick’s being honest, the associate, with his broad shoulders and distractingly expressive hands, is the reason he stopped at the table of sweaters in the first place. </p><p>He’s not being honest though. </p><p>“All good thanks,” he grabs the sweater he’d been touching, the deep green material soft under his hands, knocking the whole display askew again in the process. </p><p>“That’s a great color for you,” the associate says, seemingly unfazed as he begins to neaten the pile once more. “Though if I could make a suggestion- you’ll want to go down a size to get the right fit, these run a little big.”</p><p>“Yeah-um that’s good to uh know-thanks,” Patrick grabs the smaller sweater from the table and all but runs to the register. </p><p>He tries not to think too much about the flush spreading across his face. Doesn’t linger on the dozens of snarky replies he could have offered instead of bumbling away. He definitely doesn’t look back towards the associate, with his broad shoulders flexing subtly as he folds and stacks the upended sweaters. Instead, he pushes the sweater to the bottom of his bag, two new button-downs covering any trace of the soft wool. </p><p>He drives home with the windows down, despite the chill. </p><p>He’s staying with his parents. <em> Again </em>. Their shared apartment was the least he could give Rachel in their recent breakup. He’s back in his childhood bedroom, largely unchanged in the last 5 years since he finished university. Three apartments, a roommate gone wrong, and two breakups later moving back in has become a familiar routine. </p><p>The Toronto Blue Jays watch from the poster above his bed as he changes from his jeans and begins to unpack his laundry. There should be enough time to throw in a load before settling in for the night. He’s sorting the lights from the darks, mixing in his new purchases when a soft knock interrupts his thoughts. </p><p>“Well that’s a different color,” his mom says gesturing towards the pile on his bed. The sweater is sitting on top of the pile in all its jewel-toned glory. </p><p>“Yeah the associate helping me had something similar on and something about it just kind of caught my eye,” he trails off with a shrug still not sure why this feels like part of a bigger conversation. </p><p>“Nothing wrong with trying something new,” his mom says in her eternally reassuring way, “it’s just not a look I would have thought of for you, that’s all. </p><p>“Just trying something different,” he hates how his voice goes up at the end, the flush at his neck making him feel as if he’s questioning more than his choice in a sweater. </p><p>“Of course sweet boy, do you need any help?”</p><p>Just like that the moment has passed, locked up with a dozen other things left unsaid over the years.</p><p>“I’m good thanks.”</p><p>She closes the door with a smile, he listens for a minute to the familiar creak of the house as she makes her way back downstairs, before letting out a breath. He turns back to his laundry with a frown gathering his familiar jeans and button-downs, tucking the sweater deep into the closest for now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~summer~</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“So that should be the last of them.”</p><p>“Thank you again for coming all the way out here with me today- I know you’re still finishing things up at Ray’s this week.”</p><p>“Happy to help David, plus I’m not sure how you would have gotten all these home without my car sooo-”</p><p>“Okay, I was trying to be nice.”</p><p>“Are you boys all set?” Karyn, the vendor whose sweaters, toques, and skeins of yarn are currently occupying the better part of the trunk and backseat, makes her way out of the house with even more yarn piled in her hands.</p><p>“Perfect thanks, though I’m not sure we have room for much more.” David pulls his hand back from where it had been resting on Patrick’s shoulder, switching to his customer service voice and matching smile. Patrick misses the weight immediately. </p><p>“Oh this is for you,” she turns to Patrick with a smile, “I know it’s a little much for this time of year but I couldn’t help but notice that this one is exactly your color-and I’m pretty sure it’s your size.”</p><p>She thrusts the bundle of blue into his hands and he’s surprised when it unfolds into a sweater. The alpaca wool is soft, softer than anything he owns for sure, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him as he holds it against his chest. David’s hands reach back out brushing against Patrick’s arm as he rubs the wool. </p><p>“It’s the best isn’t it?” David’s watching him with a shy smile, half of it tucked into his teeth as if he’s afraid it’ll escape. </p><p>“I’ve never felt anything better,” he lies. It's a perfectly nice sweater but it's nothing compared to the warmth of David’s hands as they accidentally brushed against his arms.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~fall~</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure I can’t interest you in some pancakes, breakfast for dinner really can be a delightful pick me up. Or there might be a portion of the lentil stew from last weekend-”</p><p>“I’m sure Ray.” Patrick clears his throat trying to shake off some of the tension, none of this is Ray’s fault. “It was just a really long day, I’m going to turn in early.”</p><p>“This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that David wasn’t at the store again today, does it?”</p><p>“I really don’t want to talk about it,” he tries to keep his voice steady, sighing in frustration at the hurt look on Ray’s face. </p><p>“I’m just tired, okay?” This time he doesn’t wait for a response before taking the stairs two at a time, “Goodnight Ray.”</p><p>He leans against the door as it closes, swallowing back the sob that’s been threatening to escape since he finished closing the store. Alone. For the third day this week.</p><p>His clothes hit the floor, close enough to the hamper for tonight, while his hands reach on autopilot for a clean sweatshirt. Except it isn’t a sweatshirt at the top of his drawer it’s a sweater- David’s sweater. He’d left it here just last week after an unfortunate ice cream incident had led to the need to sleep in Patrick’s hoodie. </p><p>He’d been so shy about leaving it- checking no less than 5 times if Patrick was sure this wasn’t moving too fast, that he wasn’t taking up too much space. At this point, he’d give David the whole dresser just to get him to talk to him again. </p><p>Patrick pulls it gently from the drawer, running his hand down the sleeves David had deemed ‘hopelessly stretched’ rendering it a sleeping sweater. It’s Dries Van Owens or something like that- either way it’s incredibly soft and smells like David. He pulls it gently over his head, thankful his smaller frame won’t stretch the fabric further. David may never forgive him for stretching it out- he may never forgive him anyway but he’s not going to think about that right now. </p><p>Out of habit, he checks his phone, David’s smiling face shining innocently from his lock screen. The message notification catches him off guard after days of near silence. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He mirrors David’s response from 4 short months ago, hoping with all he has that this conversation will have a similarly positive outcome. He doesn’t get a response, but he doesn’t need one. David wanting to talk is enough to loosen the anxiety that’s been wrapped around him all week. Combined with the softness of David’s sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne it’s the best sleep he’s gotten in days. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>~winter~</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t the Christmas they had planned on. The quiet evening of drinks in the peace of Ray’s empty house had given way to a surprisingly festive night at the motel. Given the emotions of the day David had, understandably, wanted to spend the night with his family. But that hadn’t stopped him from walking Parick back to Ray’s first, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he held up a RA gift bag.</p><p>“David, did you get me something from our store for Christmas?”</p><p>“Okay so the wrapping paper options around here were extremely limited and I did not want to subject your gift to anything less than the quality it deserves.”</p><p>It’s such an utterly David thing to say and Patrick can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at the ridiculously charming specificity that is his boyfriend. They shed their coats and boots at the door making their way between the leftover props from Ray’s holiday photo shoots to the relative safety of the couch. As soon as they’re settled David drops the bag in his lap, practically vibrating against him. </p><p>“Don’t you want to open yours first?”</p><p>“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ for extra emphasis, “I spent far too long locating this. I literally cannot wait a moment longer.”</p><p>Never one to deny his boyfriend Patric tears into the artfully arranged tissue, pulling out an oddly squishy package. He unfolds it slowly, taking in the softness of the material, the rich blue fading from light to dark as he recognizes the shape in his lap. It’s obviously nicer than any sweater he’s ever owned, David’s taste apparent, but it looks like it belongs to him.  </p><p>“I’ll admit I wasn’t sure if we were at the dressing each other phase of our relationship yet but then I saw this and I knew the color blocking would do amazing things for your shoulders and it’s cashmere which is the kind of softness you absolutely deserve to be wrapped in-”</p><p>Struggling for words under the number of feelings he’s having for a sweater, and the incredible man who gave it to him, Patrick interrupts David’s monologue with a kiss. He presses all the words he can’t say<em> thank you, you see me, you understand, I love you </em> against David’s lips. He lets the unspoken words between them lift the weight he’s been carrying for far too long. </p><p>“So I take it you like the sweater?” David’s voice is high and breathy, his smile wide against the side of Patrick's neck. </p><p>“It’s exactly what I needed.”</p><p> </p>
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